Of Legacy and Legend
by AryaTindomiel
Summary: How did everything that is the present come to be? Why does everything have an end? Is there also a beginning, but of course... this is theirs. The past must always be remembered, to appreciate the present, and plan for the future. *Prequel of sorts to 'Legend of Albion'*
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Basically, this is me exploring how we get to the events in **_**Merlin **_**or rather **_**Legend of Albion**_** however you want take it. Not sure how much I will cover, but I have decided that the fic should be ending somewhere very close to where **_**Legend of Albion**_** begins and of course, there will be a great amount of other OCs that are not in **_**LoA**_** but also characters from the show that will just make their early appearances here. If you have not read **_**LoA**_** yet, you do not have to. The time in this will skip around a lot, if anyone wants me to specify how much time has passed between scenes, let me know. Suggestions are welcome and encouraged.**

**If you have not read my **_**A Destiny to Retell**_**, I kind of recommend it, it is tagged to this and **_**Legend of Albion**_**. In technical chronological order, my fics go: **_**A Destiny to Retell, Of Legacy and Legend, Legend of Albion**_**.**

**Thank you to lovely Azar443 for being such a wonderful FanFiction confidante and twin! And AndyAiden who always puts up with my negativity. Without you two, I would most likely still be sitting at my computer groaning about how my writing is not good at all :). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any quotes/allusions/references you recognize.**

* * *

Prologue

When a story is told, it is believed only if people _want_ to believe it… even if it is nothing but lies. With each generation, the tale moves further and further from truth and eventually becomes known as a fable – a shadow of a long forgotten legend riddled with falsehoods. But _this _story, _their_ story, must _never_ be misinterpreted or lost. And to learn the _true _story, one must go to the very beginning – the start of it all. Long before the era of Arthur, Morgana, Estella, Gwaine, Freya, Merlin, and all the others – in a time where dragons fly free, the Old Religion thrives, and a semblance of peace flows through the lands of Albion… for the time being. A lesson as old as time to all: only the journey is written, not the destination. Now it is time to go back to the beginning.

******._._._.**

In the valleys and caverns of the White Mountains great winged and wise creatures of the Old Religion known as dragons dwell amongst themselves in peace. The younger generations of dragons, however, have created bonds with magical humans. The elders believe in only a reserved alliance to all other magical beings, other than their brothers the Dragonlords, through their connection of the Old Religion, but the young ones consider these mortals their _equals_, their _friends_. This greatly displeases and angers the elder dragons, but at this time the fury is forgotten for now. For it is the beginning of the time of dragon mating and every male dragon hopes to win the favor of his desired mate.

The sounds of roaring and crackling flames ring as the mighty, masculine beasts take to the skies. Displaying their prowess in strength, power, attractiveness, whatever it takes to win them a female dragon.

The most coveted female is Vervada, the majestic silver-scaled dragoness with blue eyes, unique in all ways from every other female. It is known – despite her young age among the dragons – that she will bear the egg of the great dragoness known as The Light of the Sun that would rise in the time of the humans the prophets call the Once and Future King and Queen. Only one male will be chosen and that decision is up to Vervada herself.

One of the older dragons, a bronze colored beast named Kilgharrah, is sure that he will be the one to mate with this beautiful silver dragoness. Truly, how could it not be him?

He is one of the strongest and most powerful of his kind. The only other stronger than he is the red dragon Umaroth, sire to Vervada. He, obviously, already has a mate, Emerell, and dragons only take one mate in their lifetime.

Therefore, Vervada is all for Kilgharrah's taking. He chooses, though, to bide his time. A dragon's mating season is long and he wants to feels truly superior when Vervada presents their egg, the White Dragon's egg to their kinfolk.

* * *

Ambrosius stands hidden in the rocks at the foot of the White Mountains. He looks upon the palace which shall later be known as the Castle of the Ancient Kings. It is here that the wise man, Bruta, had called forth the respective leaders of the land together for peace talks to end the civil wars raging all over Albion.

Now it seems that an agreement has been made. The Five Kingdoms have been established and everyone has returned to their own land. While Bruta takes refuge in this castle until his own is complete. The great warlock, Cornelius Sigan, has been put in charge of building the castle near the Darkling Woods, which will be the citadel in the kingdom Bruta has claimed and named for his own, Camelot.

A tall figure walks toward the Dragonlord from the castle, stopping in front of him. "Ambrosius," the other man greets.

The Dragonlord nods to the Seer who is also his brother-in-law, "Taliesin." The two men turn as they hear a horse. A lone figure gallops away from the castle toward the valley that leads to the Isle of the Blessed. "Who is that?"

The Seer answers, "Brutus, the elder brother of Bruta. He challenged his little brother's views and of course the new king was enraged, he banished his brother from the Five Kingdoms. But the irony is that Brutus is the rightful king of Camelot."

Ambrosius lifts an eyebrow, "Because he is the older brother?"

"That," Taliesin nods, "And because it will be from Brutus' line that the legendary king shall come from."

The older man laughs softly, "Well, isn't that a story. The one whom all shall remember as the founder of Camelot is not the scion of the Once and Future King, instead it is his brother."

"Indeed, but it may be an occurrence that repeats itself for others," Taliesin comments cryptically.

Turning to the Seer, "What do you mean, brother?"

Without looking back at the other man, "I mean our own family, Ambrosius. The legendary Emrys will come from your side, through your son Balan… You, however, may not be remembered at all."

"But _you_ will Taliesin will be remembered." The Dragonlord says back knowingly.

"I do not know for certain, brother, but it is a possibility." He does not get a response right away. Fearing that he had offended his friend, "Ambrosius, I tell you all this not boast about myself."

Ambrosius now turns to his brother-in-law with a soft smile, "I know, my brother, I bear you no ill will or spite. I care not for history remembering me. Only that my family does and that they live long and prosper for generations to come."

The Seer nods, "Oh, they will… but it will not be a simple road to the Golden Age of the Great King."

"When is it ever?" Taliesin mutters his agreement. "Where are you off to now, Old Seer? Or did you just come to observe who was spying on the new king?"

Smiling, "I came to talk with you Dragonlord, but I am sent by Bruta to the location of his castle to help aid the construction."

"Ah, it sounds entertaining, especially since you have the honor of working with Sigan himself."

Ambrosius receives a dry look from his brother-in-law, "Very amusing, friend." He takes a last look at the fading figure of Brutus being engulfed by the darkness of the approaching night. "Expect to see him again, my brother. Our paths are meant to cross with his before this lifetime ends."

And with that, the seer leaves the Dragonlord for the location of where the castle of Camelot will one day stand proud as the citadel of legend.

**...**

Vervada descends from the darkening skies, gently landing on the soft, dark green grass of the Isle of the Blessed. She did not wish to be among dragons, especially since all the males are vying for her attention and favor. Strange as it seems, she feels more comfortable with the Le Fays than her own kind.

"Vervada?" whispers a musical, feminine voice.

She lifts her silver head from the satchel strapped to her leg and her brilliant blue eyes meet the gaze of a little girl hiding behind a standing stone.

"Estele," the dragoness greets the youngest Le Fay. She is golden-haired, cherub-faced, and hazel-eyed. The adolescent prettiness would one day grow into great beauty, as it is with all Le Fays.

The young girl smiles and runs to the creature. "What are you doing here?" She blinks curiously, "I thought the dragons are having a special celebration."

'_Oh, dear child,'_ Vervada smiles affectionately. The little is barely eight years of age; she would not know a thing about mating and conception… yet, anyway. Before the dragoness can respond, the flapping of heavy wings fills the air. The two look up as another dragon descends and lands upon the isle.

The dragon folds his golden wings and smiles, "Vervada, Estelle."

"Glaedr!" the little Le Fay exclaims. She moves forward to embrace one his large legs. Her thin arms barely wrap a third of the way around.

The dragon heartily laughs, "How are you, child?"

"Well," she replies, smiling as she lets his golden leg go. "What are you doing, here?"

"The same reason that Vervada is here."

Estele pouts, "You interrupted before she could answer me."

Glaedr makes a show of being shocked, "Then you have my most sincere apologies, sweet girl."

She, however, sees through his act and humphs.

"Estele!" The two dragons and the girl turn to the sound of the latter's name. Coming out of the temple of the Goddess is a tall, handsome man with golden hair and gray eyes. "There you are I have been looking for you. Your mother is worried sick."

"Father!" she bounds toward the man and embraces him tightly.

He laughs while stroking her hair lovingly. Looking up at the creatures, "Ah, Vervada, Glaedr, you have made it." The dragons nod their heads in greeting to Kevin, son of Taliesin the Seer and Viviane Le Fay. "Do you know where my uncle is?"

Vervada answers, "I just left him at the foot of the White Mountains. He did not say what he is doing there."

Kevin nods. "Well then, I will find out eventually." Looking at his daughter, "I must put this pixie to bed, I will return shortly." The creatures nod again, smiling as little Estele protests from having to go to sleep at such an early hour.

When father and daughter are out of sight in the palace, the silver dragoness turns to her mate. "Did you have any trouble sneaking out?"

The male golden dragon looks to the female, "No, not at all. Your sire made sure of it."

Vervada nods, reassured, she knows full well that Kilgharrah is aggressively pursuing her. Oh, how terribly he shall react when he learns that Vervada has already chosen her mate – the most unlikely dragon, Glaedr, whom most consider the weakling amongst their kind because of the human-like emotions he displays.

However, Vervada and her family know his true worth – the strength that mortals always prattle about, strength of the heart and mind and all the like. But truly, it is not just that. Dragons are not meant to feel human emotions, this every one of them knows, but she cares for Glaedr. Not any more than she should, but she feeling for him at all is something.

The silver dragoness fears for what may happen to him if Kilgharrah finds out the truth. Perhaps the bronze dragon will leave her mate be if he finds a mate of his own. And suddenly, a fearful thought comes to her. What if Kilgharrah learns that Vervada made her choice of a mate based on vision shown by the Le Fays? Would he attack them if he learns that truly the fault of him not having her falls upon the Le Fays?

Her tumultuous contemplation is broken by the sound of human footsteps. The two dragons are joined by Kevin again, but he is not alone. With him are his red-haired mother Viviane Le Fay, his gilded-headed wife Morgane, her mother Morgaine Le Fay and her other child, Balan the Dragonlord.

The silver dragon surveys her acquaintances and the changes the years have done to them. It seems that the years have barely touched them. But then again, the magic in this particular family is far beyond any others.

A thousand years ago, an ancient order of great warlocks, with the blessing of the Triple Goddess, bound their souls to the souls of dragons, thus giving the mortals and their male descendants powers to control a dragon. Hence they are called Dragonlords.

At this same time in history, a millennium ago, three young women bound themselves to faeries, the beautiful and mischievous creatures of Avalon – cousins of the Sidhe, who are the guardians of the blessed isle. These women's descendants are gifted with great power and beauty and have become known as the Le Fays.

And this family is comprised of both Dragonlords and Le Fays, in addition to the gift of the Sight due to Taliesin's powers. The lines are split yet connected and all shall be eminent and remarkable.

Balan comes forward and unbuckles the straps of the satchel from Vervada's leg, taking out the precious item within. It is in the shape of a giant teardrop, a color resembling that as well. It can be mistaken as a large stone, but it is, in fact, a dragon egg.

The Dragonlord gently holds the egg in both hands, "It is not time yet for this young one." He settles the stone-like object on the grass for its parents to say farewell.

Vervada nuzzles close the white egg of her child, knowing that her daughter will not hatch until the rise of the Once and Future King and Queen, her mate nestles with her. After a few moments, the dragon parents back away and nod to Balan.

The russet-haired man returns the gesture. "I will have no harm come to this egg," he promises as he put it back in the satchel and holds it with both arms.

Glaedr speaks this time, "We trust you, Dragonlord."

"Your family has saved my own before, I know that you shall again," the dam of the egg says.

Farewells are exchanged between the dragons and their friends and the two creatures take to the skies, flying swiftly and smoothly back to their home.

* * *

Brutus, son of Aeneas runs through the thicket of vines and leaves. Savagely slashing away at anything that crosses his path, be it vegetation, insect, or simply even the wind.

The man does not know how long it has been since he was banished. Years he knows, the exact amount he is not sure, though. Brutus supposes that he is fortunate to be alive. Most perhaps would have perished within the first weeks in the wilderness, but not him.

He was born and raised in such conditions. Always waiting and expecting war, hiding himself and his family in the shadows of forests and caves, living off of what nature could give. But he is alone and so he is more vulnerable. As such, he feels the beginnings of a fever.

Brutus grows exhausted. The deer he has been chasing is out of his sight and probably long gone and hidden from him. The dark-haired man stubbles and falls to his knees and finally onto his back. He looks up at the canopy of trees and he swears he is hallucinating; there is no red spot in the blue sky coming towards him.

He goes unconscious, convinced that he could not possibly have seen the face of a… dragon staring down at him.

**...**

Brutus stirs as he feels a something cool and moist press against his face. He becomes aware that he is no longer on the forest floor, but rather a feather soft bed. Although he does not feel the soreness that usually accompanies a fever, the man is still very much fatigued.

But slowly, he forces himself to open his eyes. It takes several minutes for his blurred vision to become clear and when it is, he is sure that he must be asleep… or possibly even dead, for the image of such beauty before him cannot possibly be upon or of the earth.

The young woman looks at him with concern in her stunning hazel eyes, her golden hair cascades in soft waves about her shoulders. She pulls away the cloth she was cleaning his face with when she notices him stiffening at the sight of her.

"You are safe here, my Lord." She tells him softly a voice that sounds like a soft breeze.

He looks around, seeing that he is in an unfamiliar room, the walls are of silver-colored stone, the bed covers are red, and there is soft sunlight coming through the windows. "Where am I?" he croaks.

"The Isle of the Blessed, my Lord," she answers promptly. Before he can ask, she also adds, "I am sure you believe you dreamt up the dragon you saw before you passed out, but you did not. It was Umaroth, a friend of my family's. He saw you fall and decided to bring you here to be healed."

Brutus gives the girl an incredulous look, "Your family befriends such terrible creatures?"

A scowl mars her soft features, "They are not terrible, simply misunderstood and misjudged."

He bristles at the harsh glare she gives him, "I apologize for the offense."

The woman gives him a curt nod and says nothing more. She goes back to dabbing his face with the cool cloth and then leaves him alone.

**...**

Brutus spends the next few days healing. Several people came to visit him. Two of which are the men who spotted him racing away from the castle after his banishment about thirteen years ago. Ambrosius and Taliesin are accompanied by their wives, Morgaine and Viviane, when they go to see Brutus. Their children, Balan, Morgane, and Kevin visit, as well. Brutus learns that the first woman he met is Estele the granddaughter of Ambrosius and Taliesin.

He is informed of all the things he apparently needs to know about Dragonlords, the dragons themselves, the women known as the Le Fays, Seers, other magical users, and his own family – both his side and his brother's. One of _his_ direct descendants would bear the title of High King of Albion. But for this to happen, he must find his own place his in the non-magical world. Create his own name and build up a base for his family to rise up from. Taliesin suggests that Brutus make his home at the free duchy of Cornwall, a land conquered alongside Caerleon not for the power of the respective families of Gorlois and de Bois, but to guide and safeguard the people of those regions. Brutus agrees, the things these strangers told him somehow embedding themselves in his mind, forcing him to believe them.

Brutus is taken across the lake by Ambrosius on the back of the red dragon Umaroth. On the banks of the shore, a horse is waiting. The Dragonlord bids him farewell and rides back to the isle. Before the man mounts his horse, he sees a rather familiar golden-haired woman, seemingly waiting for him amongst the trees.

"Lady Estele, I presume," he addresses.

Meeting his gaze, "My Lord"

"Come to see me off?" the man asks.

She shakes her head. "Simply to deliver a message," the woman walks forward and pulls out something from her cloak, "And this." In her hands, Estele holds a piece of crimson cloth, folded into a square and bearing a symbol of a golden dragon on it. She hands the cloth over. "This is to be your crest, the crest of your house Pendragon."

Brutus studies the cloth, "Pendragon?"

"That is the name of your house, my Lord. The dragons selected it for you." Her hazel eyes gleam with accusation, making him feel shameful. Rather abruptly, "A safe journey to Tintagel castle."

Estele Le Fay quickly leaves him feeling hollow. When he notices that he is completely alone, he mounts his stead and makes the journey to Cornwall. Bearing away the thoughts of the isle, the information he has learned about his kin, and the Lady Le Fay who shall haunt him for the rest of his days.

* * *

It is ten years now, since the departure of Brutus Pendragon. The skies are dark, without a star or the moon, only ominous clouds. The only source of light are from the torches lit in the palace and temple and the ones on the grounds. In the courtyard, all inhabitants of the Isle of the Blessed are gathering to witness the forging of swords from the sky iron that sits upon the stone altar in the center of standing stones that form a circle. Each of the nine standing stones has a fire lit upon them and in front, a High Priestess stands. In the direction of North, stands the Chief High Priestess Viviane, with a tiara with the symbol of the Triple Goddess, dressed in a blood red robe and a pendant with the Le Fay symbol around her neck. To the south, west, and east, is her sister Morgaine, niece Morgane, and granddaughter Estele, in the same fashion as she without diadems. The Priestesses of the Bendrui and the High Priests, all wearing red, form circles around the structured stones, all chanting spells toward the sky to the Goddess. The silver and gold dragons stand opposite Viviane on the other side of the stone structures. The Dragonlords are the barrier between the viewers and the other sorcerers involved in the ritual. The spectators are silent as they simply stand and walk, waiting for something to happen.

The High Priestesses start to raise their hands to the sky and chant, as well as the Le Fays, all calling forth the Goddess. The two dragons start roaring and speaking in their tongue to the Goddess. All the magic the sorcerers pour in merge together and run toward the altar, the iron. Thunder begins to rumble and the skies turn alight from the lighting. The chanting and roaring continue as the weather worsens. The wind picks up and misting water falls from the clouds above.

Suddenly, the rumbling thunder almost seems to echo the words 'Once and Future King' in a deep, distorted voice and the language of the Old Religion. No one pays any mind, as the summoning and ritual continues. Crackling bolts of lightning flash in the sky and one massive one strikes right onto the altar.

Everyone is blinded by the brilliant white light and deafened by the sharp sound of shattering steel; the roaring and chanting stops, as well as the stormy weather. When sight and hearing are regained, the atmosphere is tense. The air smells of a blacksmith's forge and rain. It is utter darkness with the sound of the lake's undulations and the strong essences of magic. The clouds above dissipate and the stars twinkle and the moon shines brightly down onto the altar.

Around the stone structure are six swords equally spaced from one another with the points directed out while the pommels point at the altar. Upon said altar, lies one sword alone. It is seemingly identical to the others but it is dark and one cannot truly tell.

The sword then levitates and moves toward Glaedr and Vervada, stopping a few feet from them. The dragons then straighten their necks and breathe fire onto the blade. As the yellow, orange, and red flames engulf the sword, the lights from the castle and temple return softly. The creatures cease their fire breathing and the glowing sword returns to the altar. The magical auras die down, back the level of normality.

Viviane Le Fay meets the eye of the dragons. She bows her head in respect and thanks for their participation of the ritual. They return the gesture to h0nor the priestess' status. The two then gracefully unfold their wings and fly into the skies to return to their land in the White Mountains.

The High Priests, Priestesses, Bendrui, Dragonlords, Le Fays, and spectators, make their way to the palace, the hour is late and those who contribute their magic to bless the swords are fatigued. The only seven swords in existence forged from sky iron lay in their places within the circle of stones.

**...**

Viviane sits atop her horse, the blessed sword on her lap. In the morning, she and her family had found that each sword is non-identical to another. The six on the ground are now in the temple, flanking the statue of the Goddess. The one on the altar, however, sits on the lap of the High Priestess.

She runs her fingers along the gilded side of the blade that is inscribed with the words, 'Take Me Up.' The other side says 'Cast Me Away.' Tightly holding the grip, Viviane then tosses Excalibur, the sword of the Once and Future King into the depths of the Lake of Avalon.

There it shall remain, untouched, unwielded. Waiting for the day its true owner rises and a Le Fay comes to bear the blade to the King.

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading and please review. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well, we are fast-forwarding now. And jumping from place to place more, but some familiar faces.**

**Thank you very much Azar443 for your confidence and praise of my writing, it's great that you are back! And AndyAiden who always puts up with me and my dramatically paranoid self. I am so fortunate as to have the two of you as my confidantes! ****Special thanks to the ****wonderful twins, ********CaroltvAddicted and maripd, **it has been great talking to you both, thanks so much for all of your positive comments on my writing! archangelo137, your review made me happy, so here is my gift as a thank you. Hugs and lots of love to you all!

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or any quotes/allusions/references you recognize.**

* * *

Ancient Prophecy

*300 years later*

A young Druid girl with brown-black hair and stormy blue eyes squints through the mist and sees the shore of what they call the Isle of the Blessed. She shivers as she feels the essences of power radiating from the Isle, running past her, through her. The magic mingles with her own, recognizing that she has the gift, as well.

Still, she tightens her hold on the bundle in her arms and the infant stirs, but does not wake. The girl looks down at her young sister while stroking her light brown hair and soft pink cheek.

She sharply turns as a hand is placed on her shoulder. Looking down on her is the woman who saved her and her sister. The woman says her name is Vera Le Fay and that she will bring Nimueh and Niniane to the Isle of Blessed to be raised and trained.

Nimueh had demanded how this stranger knew her and her sister's name, but the woman simply assured that Nimueh would learn the answer when she is older.

"You will be safe here, child. You and your sister," Vera tells her kindly. "I may not be your father or mother, but I hope that you will see me as a mentor you can become fond of."

The young shuts her eyes and starts to tremble from the sobs attacking her. Her loving parents and the other the Druids in the camp with them had been killed in an attack by some foreign invaders. This woman, Vera, and some of followers came to their rescue but only achieved to running off the Saxons and saving them: Niniane and Nimueh.

Nimueh opens her tear-filled eyes to see that they have reached the shore. Vera stands from the boat and offers her arms, though the young girl is reluctant, she carefully hands over her sister and lets another woman with red hair help her out of the boat. Quickly, she extends out her arms, her eyes pleading for her sister back and the High Priestess gives back the infant.

Turning, the golden-haired woman walks up the cobblestone path toward the large palace. The other people bow as Vera passes. After a moment's pause, Nimueh begins to follow Vera, her infant sibling held tightly in her arms.

The soft caress of the wind, the sound of the birds, the laughter and magic of everyone around her – Nimueh almost immediately feels that she will, one day, proudly call the Isle her home.

* * *

The sounds of a wailing, newborn child echo through the halls of Tintagel Castle. Within the chambers of the Duchess of Cornwall, the Lady Caelia, a group of people are gathered around the bed, as Caelia lays in the aftermath of her birthing her son. The task was not easy and rendered her so weak that her body is shutting down.

Caelia's best friend, the Lady Anne Pendragon sits by her side, holding her hand tightly and stroking her mahogany hair. "Caelia, dearest friend, do not leave us yet. Your son needs you."

The duchess mumbles inaudible words. She wants to fight for her boy, but she knows that she cannot, she is not meant to watch her son grow into the great man she knows he will be. She cannot say 'like his father' for she does not know who the father is. Her young son was conceived at the rites of Beltane where she was the Virgin Huntress and her son's father, the Hunter. And of course, as is the custom, they do not know each other's identities before or after the ritual.

Caelia's life force is leaving her, with her last breath she whispers the name of her house, Gorlois and her hazel-gray eyes shut, never to open again.

Anne cries out for her friend, pleading for her to return to them, but it is futile. Lord Constantine Pendragon takes his wife, heavy with child, into his arms and strokes her golden hair, while whispering words of condolences, but his own eyes are glassy. He considered Caelia his close friend, as well.

The couple looks toward the child of their friend, now an orphan, but with the sole birthright to the duchy of Cornwall. They, of course, would be his guardian until he is old enough to rule on his own. However, Caelia never mentioned any name for the infant. She had wanted to wait to name him at birth, but her spirit left her body before she uttered a true name.

Anne then speaks up through her tears, "She- she whispered her family name."

Constantine nods, "I suppose we should call him that then." The brown-haired man goes to the nurse and takes the baby into his arms. He rocks the child gently, "Gorlois of House Gorlois."

His wife chuckles despite the situation, "She would have laughed if you call him Gorlois Gorlois."

The Lord's smile is tinged with sadness, "Yes, I know."

Anne strokes the light wisps of light brown hair, most likely inherited from his father's side – the father they did not know (and will not know).

The guards then enter and gather their mistress' body to prepare for her funeral.

* * *

"My Lord?" the man with brown hair turned around. Standing behind him is the midwife. Her face is grim and he fears the worse. But his fear keeps his voice stuck. "I am sorry, my Lord. Duchess Igerna is safe, but your son… we tried to save him, but he died minutes after your wife pushed him out and it could have cost Igerna her life if we..."

Duke Amlawdd of Caerleon takes a sharp intake of breath as he turns back to the window and rests his forehead against the glass. "We have lost so many children in infancy," he says in a defeated voice. He laughs humorlessly, "It is almost a miracle that we have two children who are alive and as healthy as ever."

Midwife looks on with sympathy, she would have left him in his grief, but there are things to be done, "What would have me do, my Lord?"

Amlawdd shakes his head and straightens up. "How is my wife?" he questions tiredly.

The woman promptly answers, "She is resting. Passed out in exhaustion moments after the birth… she does not know that it was a boy and that..."

"And she will not," he says.

The midwife thinks she misheard him, "My Lord?"

"Igerna cannot know that we have lost another child it will break her heart." He sighs, "She has always been quite a fragile thing, but her strength of will and wit is what has kept her alive. However this… her spirit will not survive this." Amlawdd pauses and the midwife waits. "You must find an orphan child, either male or female, it matters not, but it must be able to pass as ours and you must retrieve it as soon as possible."

"But my Lord-"

He interrupts, "You know some magic, scry for an infant child somewhere and retrieve it. For the sake of Duchess Igerna…" the dark-haired man is nearly begging, the pleas glowing in his hazel eyes.

The woman is reluctant; she does not deny that the Duke is a caring and loving man, to want to keep heartache from his wife, but to deceive her in such a way… This plan would not work, a mother will always know her child and whatever babe she can find, she knows that Igerna will sense that it is not hers, but finally she agrees to what the Duke asks of her, for the Duchess Igerna.

But her claim is correct: a mother will _always_ know her own child (and if it is not).

* * *

Lord Constantine and Lady Anne sit in their solar, watching as their young son Uther plays with Gorlois. The two boys now a little over three years of age, are the greatest of friends and would continue to be so well into adulthood.

Anne sighs softly as she puts her hand on her husband's. "Must you go?"

"You know I have a duty to ensure that no harm comes to Cornwall." He answers.

"But there will be sorcerers there." The woman reminds him.

"I still must fight," Constantine says firmly. "For you, for Uther, and for Gorlois, besides, you know that magic really is nothing to fear."

"Unless it is used against you." She counters.

He sighs now, "Anne, this is a duty I must fulfill. All you should worry about is caring for the boys."

Anne is silent for a moment. "And if you do not return?"

Constantine looks into his wife's light brown eyes. "Well, I never knew I meant so much to you."

She gives him a dry look. "You are my husband."

He shakes his head reminding, "Not by choice."

"As I am not your wife by choice," the Lady nods.

The man then gives the woman a smile, "I suppose this marriage out of duty did turn out rather splendidly."

She returns the expression but quickly frowns again, "Just be careful, _please_."

He continues to smile, assuring, "I will, you need not worry."

Unfortunately, Constantine is wrong: much worry is to come to those of Cornwall.

* * *

Vera leans closer to the Crystal of Neahtid as images start to form. She sees the citadels of Camelot, Caerleon, Tintagel castle, the Isle of the Blessed. The conflicting images of places start to show people: two identical women, who could only be her twins (who are barely a year old at present), two other girls similar to Vivienne and Valeria in appearance, but not identical to each other, and another girl who could pass as Vera's own sister.

A bronze colored dragon – she knows him to be Kilgharrah – flying through a dark sky, roaring in rage, and maliciously breathing fire. The priestess backs away as the flames flare out, nearly jump out of from the crystal… but they slowly die down, and the stone returns to its dormant state.

She shuts her sea blue eyes and exhales slowly. Every day, every month, every year, the time draws closer and closer. All she, and everyone else who have any form of the Sight, can do is sit back, wait, and watch. There is no need to take matters into her own hands, she _should not_, anyway.

* * *

Ten years since the death of Lord Constantine by the hand of a sorcerer, a magical illness sweeps through Cornwall and taking numerous lives. One of which, is that of the Lady Anne Pendragon. Her last days are spent in bed, praying for her Uther and Gorlois, while cursing magic. She has never been particularly fond of the craft, untrusting of the unnaturalness of it. There is also her personal fear of it. But since the day she lost her husband, she had come to loathe magic viciously. This thought passed onto her son and her death gives Uther Pendragon more credence to hate the very thing that stole his parents from him.

Gorlois, however, has his mother's wise hazel-gray eyes and her keen and open mind – even at the tender age of only thirteen. Therefore he looks at every situation individually. He knows that individual sorcerers are to blame for the deaths of the Pendragons, but refuses to blame all magic as a whole.

Uther tolerates the continued use of magic in Cornwall because it is not his duchy to rule for one and he believes in his friend's rational judgment for another. However, if he were to put these reasons aside, magic would be eliminated from the land. That is how it should be in the young Pendragon's mind, life free of the supernatural.

* * *

Duchess Igerna stands at a window overlooking the training grounds. She starts to smile as she sees her young Ygraine notching an arrow into a bow and aiming at a target. The only girl of the Duke and Duchess of Caerleon is quite the wild one, always wanting to do what her elder brother Tristan did. Amlawdd had forbidden swordsmanship, but allowed archery.

So, instead of attending to her embroidery lessons, the twelve year old Ygraine de Bois is practicing her skills with a bow. Igerna, however, frowns when she sees her youngest, Agravaine, approaching his elder sister from behind. It is often said that the youngest in a family is the one the family dotes upon. For the de Boises, it is simply not so.

Agravaine has always been a strange boy, his black hair inky, his pale blue eyes glacial, and his smile brings chills to the bone… although the boy also has a talent for conjuring pity and guilt.

Igerna remembers the first day she met her young son. She had opened her eyes, only remembering the sharp, most likely fatal pain coursing through her body. The birthing was much more laborious than her former two. Next to her, Duke Amlawdd sat and held a bundle of navy blankets and calling it their son, he tried to hand him over to his mother. Right when Igerna saw his face and squinting eyes, she could tell that something was wrong, almost like… the child was truly not _her_ son, at all. For days, she was adamant about this, refusing to neither hold him nor feed him. But one day, when she was left alone with the infant, her soft heart made her concede and she started to care for him, but the shadow remained in her mind.

Now watching as Agravaine mocks Ygraine and pulls at her golden hair, the thought is rekindled. Thankfully, Tristan catches sight of the scene and saves his little sister from their brother's torments. Igerna lets out a great sigh of relief (and despite the situation, she feels guilty for it).

* * *

The clash of steel against steel rings through the training grounds within the castle of Tintagel; the knights, who were fighting in pairs, stand on the sidelines and watch as the two seventeen year olds – their Lord Gorlois and his best friend Lord Uther of House Pendragon – dual each other once again. More often than not, Uther (who happens to be the stronger fighter) wins, but Gorlois (the more agile of the two) has the occasional victory and this is one of those times. Uther is disarmed and Gorlois hold his sword to his throat.

Uther smiles crookedly, "I yield."

His friend returns his smile and lowers his sword, "Yes, of course you do, since you win most of the time anyway."

The other boy is half serious when he says, "No need to be spiteful, my friend."

"I'm only speaking the truth," he assures, "No spite intended."

Uther shakes his head. "Oh, of course, Gorlois, great son of Caelia of House Gorlois is too honorable for spite."

Gorlois raises an eyebrow, "Do I detect spite now, my friend?"

The young man shakes his head and sighs, "It's not to do with you, but me."

The future Duke suspects that there is something more that his friend wants to say. He orders his knights to return to training and takes Uther by the arm and leads him to the turrets. When they are alone on the battlements, he looks to the man he considers a brother. "Now, what is it? Is it Niniane?"

Uther nods. "Yes," then shakes his head again, "But it is not _just_ her."

"Explain then, my friend."

"I…" Uther does not quite know how to word what he wants to say.

"Come on," his friend goads.

"I don't want you to think me a fool," he explains why he is reluctant to tell what is on his mind.

Gorlois laughs. "Uther, our houses have known each other for generations, we are practically one family and every person in the family thinks another is fool." His friend throws him a dry look. "Besides, there is nothing you can say that I will hold against you or judge you for," he adds.

Uther is silent for some time, until he gathers the courage to say, "Do you ever think there is more beyond our lives here?"

"More than my duchy and its prosperity, probably, but not for me," there is a sharp tone hinting in the words, but the other man saves this topic for when he is finished explaining his thoughts.

"I simply wish that I could just go out into Albion and conquer a land of my own for myself, my house, my family; to have something to my name other than simple wealth and a noble title."

The future duke of Cornwall nods slowly, dismissing his bitterness. "Ahh, I see. Well, you have always been the ambitious one Uther Pendragon."

His friend always has known how to lighten a somber mood and he breaks a slight smile. "Well, someone must be Gorlois; you tend to stay content wherever you are."

Shaking his head, "Not always," he informs.

"Ah, yes, of course. I did hear a bitter edge to that other statement, so tell me, what is plaguing _your_ mind?"

"Niniane," Gorlois starts, "Do you love her?"

Uther barely refrains from snickering, "Do I have to?"

His friend shrugs, "Well, you do bed her _every_ night; I am surprised that she has not begotten a child yet, but there has to be some affection, mustn't, there?"

He thinks on this, what is the correct answer? "Well… I… I do _care _about her, but it is _not _love."

Another shrug, "Nonetheless, for us there no love in marriage, is there? So, do you intend to make her your wife?"

"Enough about me. We were talking about you, but you are my best friend and almost my brother, so I already know what is on your mind." Uther smiles knowingly. "Come now, my friend, they say Lady Ygraine will to be the fairest woman in the land when she becomes of age, albeit with a bit of a temper. Is that your reservation with her?"

"No, I can handle her temper, but truthfully she usually does not show that side of her to me anyway. I have met with her every few summers for as long as I can remember. It is just that… I feel as though she is not meant for me." The young Lord explains.

The other Lord laughs, catching on immediately, "Gorlois, you, my friend, are such a _romantic_."

Said man sighs. "Yes, Uther I am and I will admit that I am, but really you do understand, I am sure. You do not want to marry Niniane, do you, even though all of Tintagel expects it?"

He is taken aback by this information, but he considers it for quite a bit. "I… I suppose that in time I could come to love her enough, but she will never be my heart."

"And you called me a romantic," the future duke accuses.

Uther smiles, "Well, I must be one as well. But I understand why you do not want to marry Ygraine and truly I do not think that I could marry Niniane and stay faithful."

"Ah, yes, no honor whatsoever from a Pendragon." He insults good-naturedly.

He mockingly scowls at his friend. "The Pendragons do have quite a bit of honor I will have you know; even if our honor is not as high and mighty as a Gorlois."

For only a minute, the two are serious, until they break out into easy and friendly laughter. Looking up, the heir of Cornwall sees the approaching dark clouds. Clearing his throat, "A storm is coming. I should go and gather my knights."

Uther sighs in a slightly melancholy way, "You know I have always wanted to say that."

Gorlois grasps his best friend's shoulder. "You are destined for great things my friend, I truly believe that one day you find everything you want and are looking for; may you believe that, Uther Pendragon."

He smiles gratefully, "Thank you." Gorlois nods and returns to the training grounds.

* * *

Vera Le Fay stands at a balcony, watching her identical twin girls strolling through the gardens. She sighs heavily. Her fourteen year old daughters have never known anything else beyond what is on the Isle of the Blessed.

However, before the week ended, they would be (practically) thrown into the world of ordinary folk. Their father, Lord Pellias, insisted on having his children raised in his household for a few years, since he had scarcely seen them in their nearly fifteen years of life; a fact that Pellias begrudgingly admits, for if he had had it his way, Vera would have been his wife and a respectable noblewoman, as well as their daughters.

But Vera is a Le Fay and would never allow herself to be bound to _any_ man. A Le Fay has and always will choose a man who is fit to be her mate, regardless of her feelings for him. Besides, the Old Religion needs friends in that of the new one. Ever so slowly, the power grows of the Goddess is fading from the world and so, the Le Fays do what they must. To ensure the magic remains and that their line does not end.

Pellias was Vera's mate, not for love, but to continue her line, chosen because he is a man of honor from a land the Isle is allied with – the duchy of the De Bois house, Caerleon.

Vera has always known that her girls' destinies lay on and beyond the Isle and the time has now come for them to take a respite from what has always been home.

Leaving the balcony, the woman makes her way down to the gardens. The witches, warlocks, priests, sorcerers, and all others who are inhabiting or visiting the Isle bow to her as she passes. She is one the Nine – the highest of the Nine High Priestesses of the Old Religion, in addition to being a Le Fay, one the most powerful magical families in existence. Such reverence for her and her kin should be expected if not demanded, but most Le Fays are too proud for their own good.

The sight of a dark-haired woman brings the Lady Le Fay out of her own thoughts. The other witch is about to pass her, but the golden-haired priestess grabs her arm.

Nimueh tentatively looks up, "Yes, my Lady?"

Vera gives her apprentice a soft smile. "Fear not, young witch, I only have a task for you. If you will follow me," the older woman inclines her head for the Nimueh to follow her.

The both of them walk in silence for a bit until the younger woman's curiosity gets the better of her, "What sort of task is this, my Lady?"

Lady Le Fay does not answer the question immediately. She waits until they walk into a corridor without anyone, but those of the Blood Guard, standing their sentry, "Nimueh, when you were but six years old, a child, you lost both your parents and the only person left was your infant sister Niniane." The dark-haired woman nods solemnly. "I found you, brought you here, and raised you as my own. Despite your sister's relish of the magic of the Isle, she has veered away from the Old Religion, not wanting to embrace the faith which allows her to have such power in her veins." Glancing at Nimueh, "However you have not and I am thankful for that." She pauses. "And because of your fifteen years of loyalty, I trust you to accompany my daughters to Caerleon."

Nimueh raised her brows in surprise. "So, Lord Pellias has finally convinced you then, my Lady?" She trusted by the Chief High Priestess and is, therefore, aware of the Le Fays' situation with Pellias.

Vera shakes her head as they step out of the palace and into the forests. "No, it is of my own choice to send my daughters from the Isle; their time has now come to experience the world beyond ours."

The younger woman notices the slight creases in her mentor's face. "Is there something else?" Nimueh suddenly sees that they have arrived in a dim cave. Before them stands a basin of water.

Nodding while grabbing a pitcher of water, Vera starts to pour water into the basin. "This is the mirror of the Isle. It shows things that were, things that are, and some things that have not yet come to pass." She gestures for Nimueh to join her. They both look into the water's surface as it starts to shift.

_Masses of people gather round a stone, encased within it is a glimmering sword. A dragon flies over them, accompanied by an ethereal figure that seemed to be a faerie. The people bow reverently to the two._

_ A large, round table settled within a grand hall and in the center of the table, the faerie and the dragon._

_ Thousands of men fighting on a perilous battlefield, the battle seems a lost cause, with all the men slashing and dying. The dragon and faerie appear and the deathly fire is washed away and bathed in a brilliant light._

Nimueh is momentarily blinded, in her ears ring cries of '_the Once and Future King and Queen' _in the language of the Old Religion.

When she can see again, she looks to Vera. "This is the ancient prophecy, the one of the King and Queen who would unite all of those in Albion." The golden-haired woman nods. "And who are they, then?"

Her sea blue eyes seem to glow. "That is up to you." (Though not really, it is up to her to _help _them rise).

She is taken aback. "Me, Lady Vera, what are you saying?"

"The King and Queen will not be born into our world for many years. The Queen, you need not worry about, but the King you do. He must be a man who will be a leader to those of and without magic, to followers of the Old Religion and the New. He must be a great warrior, as well as a fair and just ruler."

Nimueh shakes her head. "I still don't understand."

Vera nods. "I did not expect you to. But only remember what I told you, the rest shall reveal itself along the way." She starts to walk out of the cave. "Come, there is a journey to prepare for."

* * *

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading and please review. I realize that you may want explanations for several things, but I am not the type of writer who will spill out everything in a single chapter, so have patience, I will eventually tell everything.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I'm a totally terrible updater, I know! I can't say how sorry I am, but I can only hope that my writing is worth the wait. A little heads-up on this story though. I think I'm gonna take my twin Azar's lead and instead have this fic be a series of interconnected one-shots that are essentially the prequel to _Legend of Albion_, but may include some one-shots that deal with certain events during _Legend of Albion_ that I didn't get to cover. This is just what I'm think of doing, I haven't made a final decision yet, but this is just to let you guys know if just in case I decide to do this. Anyway, just a heads-up so don't think too much on it... okay I'm rambling, I'll stop, now.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

* * *

The Court of Caerleon

Vera Le Fay slows her galloping horse to a walk and her procession does the same as they cross the border into the land of Caerleon. The Chief High Priestess in her rose red robes leads her party with Nimueh close on her left and both twin daughters on her right. Behind her is a select few of Priestesses of the Bendrui accompanying them as their attendants and surrounding them are a company of priests of the Blood Guard.

"Do you think he will like us?" Valeria asks aloud to her mother about their father.

"Of course he will." Vera replies.

"How could he not?" Nimueh adds with a smile while brushing some dust off her own rose raiment. "Besides your blood relation, the two of you are intelligent, charming, and vibrant girls. It is almost impossible to _not_ like you." Her praise causes the younger girls to blush slightly.

Their golden-haired mother nods, "Indeed, Nimueh is correct." Giving her daughters a sharp, warning look, "However, you must be cautious, as admirable and endearing those traits are they can also spark envy from women and animosity in men. Nimueh may be there to protect you, but you must still know how to defend yourself."

Vivienne speaks up, "Is that not what we have been trained for – to control our powers with our wills and our swords with our agility?"

"But, of course, love," she answers her elder daughter. "Nevertheless, do not let our infamous pride and vanity overrule sense and reason. And always remember the code by which a Le Fay lives: _Family first, Duty second, and then Honor_. Never forget this."

The twins simply nod as the entourage has come to arrive at the citadel. There is no one in the streets. But of course, it is rather late in the night – as Vera wanted. She and her company did not desire attention drawn on them. Thankfully Pellias agreed to this, arranging for the meeting to take place in a much more secluded part of the citadel, rather than the main square.

The Le Fay twins look around with slight interest and distrust, the latter feeling is much more potent than the former. They find that the design of the castle is quite impressive.

They enter the eastern courtyard where a small group of people are waiting. One is a tall man with mahogany hair and gray eyes. Another man, around the same age as the other is also tall, but with almost black hair and dark green eyes. Last is a petite woman, who must be Vera's age, but the years have touched her more than the Lady Le Fay – for youth is preserved by the magic in her veins – she has soft blue eyes and golden hair. But there is also a frailty in her thin frame, not in the manner that she looks pale and sickly, but weaker than the average female courtier (and that is saying something since most of them are damsels-in-distress). Seemingly to spite this, the fire glowing in her opal blue gaze reveals her intelligence and sharp wit – that her mind is much stronger than her body.

While the Blood Guard and Bendrui remain mounted the High Priestesses and young Le Fays dismount their horses. The man with green eyes – Lord Pellias of House Auberon comes down from the steps. He is a powerful figure within Caerleon's court – considered a very close friend to the de Boises and is Duke Amlawdd's right hand man.

Vera stands behind her twins – who are fidgeting slightly, while fiddling with their sea green robes – as their father comes to greet them. He smiles with inexplicable joy on his handsome face. "Hello…" Pellias pauses abruptly (with embarrassment and a bit of shame), unable to tell the difference between the girls.

"Vivienne and Valeria," Vera indicates with putting her hand on each girl's shoulder respectively, her tone is soft and not accusing.

The dark-haired man nods to the ethereal woman. He takes a moment to take in the sight of her – the beauty of her that he has always believed too great to be possessed by a woman on earth, but that is a description for every Le Fay woman. Looking back down at the twins, "Welcome, my girls, to Caerleon castle."

Vera unconsciously flinches at this. _His girls_… his girls they certainly are, physically at least. Vivienne and Valeria have their mother's pale skin, the magic and their own forms of the Sight, and the ethereal beauty and grace that comes with being a Le Fay. However, instead of the traditional golden sunshine or red auburn hair or even the golden-hazel or blue eyes, the girls have raven hair and emerald green eyes. They are also quite tall (another trait that is not Le Fay) and all this they inherited from their father. Vera is thankful, though, that no matter what, in heart, mind, and soul they are Le Fays and _always _would be.

The Chief High Priestess gestures for Nimueh and the younger woman comes to her side, "This is Nimueh, a fellow High Priestess." She says to Pellias, "She will be a companion of the girls during their stay."

Pellias' brow crinkles, "They will be safe here, Vera. Duke Amlawdd is a gracious man; anyone living under his roof is under his protection."

The golden-haired woman did not comment on his words. "Nimueh _will_ be a guardian to _my girls_," she says in a glacial whisper.

The man flinches but then readily agrees; clearing his throat, "Will you and your company-?"

"We shall be leaving immediately," the petite Chief High Priestess informs. She turns away from Pellias, catches the duchess' eye offering her a soft smile, and turns to the young girls that she would be leaving here. Vivienne, Valeria, and Nimueh cling to Vera, before she pulls herself away reluctantly, mounts her horse, and leads her party back to the Isle of the Blessed. The three horses left are taken to the stables, while their riders are lead to their bedchambers by Duchess Igerna.

* * *

Lady Ygraine leaves her chambers early that morning. She is charged by her mother to retrieve the new visitors to break their fast with the higher Ladies of Caerleon in the gardens. She herself is eager to meet the Le Fays, her mother has told her a bit of the family history and she finds it all very intriguing.

However, in her rush and excitement, she fails to see that her elder brother is striding toward her. The two collide before Tristan could have made to avoid it. "Sister, you really must pay better attention."

She is still in shock because of the collision. "What?" her brother helps her up from the floor.

"Whatever you were thinking a moment ago, it kept you so distracted you did not even hear me calling your name." he tells her.

"Oh, forgive me, Tristan. I was thinking of the Le Fays," She informs him in a hushed tone.

Her seventeen-year-old brother smiles; Ygraine is nearly fifteen and still, she has such a child-like wonder about her, "Hmm, I should have known, magic has always fascinated you."

She looks at him nearly aghast, whispering, "Tristan, they are Le Fays-"

"Yes, yes, I know, a very magically powerful family with the blood of faeries running through their veins," Tristan cuts in with an odd tone to his words.

The siblings start walking down the corridor while the sister gives her brother a curious look. "I thought you would be excited. You have rambled on and on about their other-worldliness and such since mother told us about them… What are subtly trying to say now, Tristan? You know that I am not as sharp as you or mother." This is true, as intelligent as Ygraine is, her wit and cleverness is no match for Igerna or Tristan's, but they are sure that, in time, she will sharpen.

Her brother shakes his head, "Nothing, little phoenix. I suppose… the fact that _we_ are actually going to meet them… it is a surreal feeling, sister."

Ygraine takes a moment to think but then… Ah, now she sees. It is not that Tristan has lost enthusiasm, but rather he is trying to cover up how greatly his eagerness is. But she will spare him the embarrassment of it. "Whatever you say then, but I have to go and fetch our guests to have breakfast with mother and myself." She starts to move down another corridor and notices that her brother looks tempted to follow her. "And you are not invited, Trist," then she quickens her pace to get away.

"Do not call me that, it makes me sound like a girl!" Tristan yells.

Giggling, she suggests, "Perhaps you are!"

The heir of Caerleon has half a mind to take off after her, but decides against it. It is not proper for a future Duke to go around chasing Ladies for amusement, especially if that Lady is his little sister.

**...**

The twins were given bedchambers that are joined by a single solar. Nimueh is residing in the chambers just to their right. The three of them barely slept and ended up snuggling on the large bed near the fire in Valeria's chambers together.

By the time the sun rose high above the horizon, the three are washed and dressed. Now they are settled in the solar, quiet and contemplating…

"What do think?" Vivienne breaks the silence to question her twin.

Valeria shrugs from her place at the window as she plays with the ends of her hair, "I do not know, we have not been here long enough to judge anything or anyone."

The elder snorts in a most un-Ladylike way. "Please, there are such things as first impressions, which you, as one of the most judgmental people I know, can give your opinion upon."

She mimics her sister, "Well, so are you my dearest twin. Besides, it is not as though we judge and stay to it, we change our opinions as we see fit."

A knock on the door silences them as their guardian rises from her seat to answer it. Soft words are exchanged, and cautiously the High Priestess allows whoever it is to enter. And it just happens that there are two people: Lord Pellias and a stranger, but the girl bears a resemblance to Duchess Igerna and so the dark-haired girls deduce that she is her daughter Lady Ygraine.

The man offers his daughters a fatherly smile that warms his handsome face, "My dears, I hope that you had a good rest and are well recovered from the rigors of travel."

They offer him gracious smiles, but say nothing, so Nimueh speaks up for them. "My Ladies appreciate the concern, but I would like to know why you insist on disturbing their rest."

Pellias is taken aback for a moment at such a display of disrespect. Thankfully, Ygraine speaks, "Forgive me, the fault is mine. I wanted to introduce myself. I am the Lady Ygraine de Bois and I am so sorry for the bother, but I thought that simply coming to you without even being introduced yet would be rather rude. Which is why I asked Lord Pellias to be here," She kindly gestures for the man to leave, "Lord Pellias if you would…" He clears his throat and bows to Ygraine and smiles once more to the new arrivals, then leaves.

The three dark-haired girls observe the fair-haired girl. She is of average height, not as tall as the twins, but certainly more than her mother and theirs. Her midnight blue gown complements her pale peach skin, blue-gray eyes, and hair of gold. She takes after her mother greatly in looks and with that almost frailty about her.

Ygraine offers them a kind smile, "I hope you do not feel as though I am intruding, but my mother and I would like for you three to join us for breakfast in the gardens. They are secluded and only for the High Duchess and her company to enter, so you need not fear being bothered."

The three of them are reluctant, but their hostess is calling upon them, so they decide that it is best to oblige her, it is the polite thing to do at least. Even though the three have not been raised in the court of non-magical nobility or royalty, they know the rules of decorum and etiquette. Besides, they declined to have any dinner the night before, so they are quite famished.

So, they follow the young noblewoman, who cleverly leads them down passageways that are particularly empty of any person. The four duck into an alcove which leads to the outside where they follow a narrow, stone path with raised flower beds fenced off by rocks on either side. They observe that it is rather plain compared to the Isle of the Blessed.

They then enter an open area surrounded by trees and numerous plants and flowers. The tree witches find themselves refuting their former observation – this may not be the Isle, but it is still quite beautiful. Walking past several Ladies – who lower their moderate chattering to incessant whispering – they comes to a terrace, decorated with numerous flower arrangements and midnight blue banners with gray phoenixes on them, where the Duchess Igerna sits with a younger woman, about sixteen, by her side and in front of them, a table full of food.

She looks up and smiles while tightening her white, silk shawl around her navy clad shoulders. "Welcome, please sit." After they do so, Igerna introduces the unknown woman, "This is Lady Lynette Dinadan, one of our Ladies-In-Waiting."

"But soon to not be any longer, for she shall be married to Gaheris Lothian," Ygraine joyously adds. The witches offer Lynette their congratulations and she returns her thanks.

"Come now, we may talk after eaten," the duchess says and the six of them begin to eat. There is mostly silence, however, the other Ladies are still whispering.

Valeria catches sight of a woman staring at her and of course, she is not going to stand for it. "If I may be so bold, Duchess Igerna can you please tell the other Ladies to stop being so rude."

She spoke loudly enough for all to hear and then all are quiet as Igerna gives her other Ladies-In-Waiting a sharp look. "I am sorry, my Ladies are good at keeping secrets from the rest of the court, but amongst themselves, they will gossip endlessly. Guests such as you have provoked them greatly."

The three of them stiffen and Nimueh narrows her stormy blue eyes, "Guests such as us?"

The older woman smiles, "Why, Priestess, you cannot be so dim as to not be aware of your own appearance." Nimueh's eyes then widen, she was not told that the de Bois family knows of her and the Le Fays. "Ah, you were not told about my family were you?"

Looking at Igerna's exposed fingers, she sees on her index finger, a silver ring with the symbol of a Rowan tree, which means… "You are a follower of the Old Religion?" the High Priestess questions.

The duchess smiles, "Yes, there are actually a few families who are followers in Caerleon: my own, the House Oberon, Auberon, Pellias' house, Dinadan, and Lothian. The House of Gorlois, the ruling of Cornwall, was formerly of the Old Religion as well, but the current future duke was raised by a family of the New Religion after his mother passed and so the faith was not instilled in him.

Nimueh's suspicion dies down a bit, as do the twins. They have heard of the House Oberon, it is a family very close to the Druids, those folk even consider Oberons almost like family, but this does not ease the discomfort of the witches.

Igerna she sees the tension, "Forgive me, I must have made you three very uncomfortable. I and my daughter simply wanted you to know that you are not alone. Caerleon is allied with the Isle of the Blessed for a reason."

"What of the House de Bois?" Vivienne ask curiously.

The duchess nods slowly, "My husband is a supporter, but not a follower; he does not claim any faith. But there is me, my daughter here, my eldest son Tristan, oh, also the court midwife and her attendants."

Valeria narrows her eyes in puzzlement (she is aware that Igerna has a total of three children, not just the two she mentioned), "What of your other son?"

Igerna winces and takes a shortened breath, "A-Agravaine is… very much like his _father_, but he chooses to be indifferent in most aspects and this happens to be one of them." They see that she is visibly shaken. The reasons why, they know not, but they let the subject drop and she, relieved, returns to what prompted the former conversation. "As I was saying, when I said 'guests such as you' I meant your physical appearance. Beauty is one of the subjects most conversed about anywhere in the land. And there is always disagreement on who truly stands as the most radiant of women. And while these disputes go on, women have their time of being called most attractive, but then they grow old… at least most do. Lady Vera is still as luminous as ever I must say. I, however, have had my time and am passing my title to Ygraine." After smiling to her daughter she continues, "My apologies for going on a tangent, the Ladies are whispering about your exotic beauty, so different from any they have seen in court before so they talk, but ignore them gossip is a common thing and theirs will not spread further from their company."

Ygraine then speaks, addressing the twins, "If I may be so bold now, but I must ask how it is we can distinguish between the two of you, given the identical appearance."

Feeling more at ease now from the de Bois Ladies' calming presence, Nimueh remarks while chuckling, "I think only their mother can tell the difference." Glancing at the twins, "They not only look alike, but their auras of magic are nearly the same and they purposefully dress and act alike. _I _can barely tell them apart, despite our years together."

Lynette, who had been mostly silent during the conversations, speaks, "Well, then, we are at a loss, let us despair."

Valeria eyes the Lady and smiles, a usually quiet girl hiding a fiery spirit. "I suppose we have to give small indications as to which of us is who, if you are sharp-witted enough, you should be able to tell."

"Or I will simply ask your mother, she _is_ a good friend of mine," the six women laugh at Igerna's comment. And they continue to converse, whilst finishing their breakfast. The three Ladies of the court speak of all the festivities and pleasures of Caerleon. In turn, they listen as the twins and Nimueh rave about the Isle and its beauty and magic.

Soon, the food is cleared away by the servants and they bring various pieces of fabric, needles, and thread. "I think," the duchess starts while looking to her daughter, "That I shall take charge of the embroidery lessons now that our guests are with us."

"Is this all that court Ladies do all day?" Vivienne asks with a good-natured hint of patronization, she and Valeria are quite averse to sewing.

Nimueh feels the need to reprimand, "Valeria-"

"I am Vivienne," the older Le Fay states while snickering with her sister.

Igerna smiles at their bright faces and starts to list the typical activities of a female courtier, "No, we draw, play instruments, embroider, paint, dress ourselves, decorate… unless of course, you are Ygraine or Lynette." She eyes said girls who turn away to hide their smirks.

"What do you mean?" questions Valeria.

The duchess smiles, "A typical Lady does feminine things to occupy her time, but Ygraine and Lynette seem to have some masculine interests, as well, such as the arts of combat-"

"Mother, do not tell me you disapprove _now_," Ygraine intercedes in alarm and shock.

"No, Ygraine, I speak out of envy, since my delicate body has never allowed me to partake in such activity," She pauses. "But after this lesson, all of you may go to the training grounds if you would like."

And of course, all the younger women readily agree to the idea.

* * *

"Have you seen the Auberon twins yet?" Agravaine asks of his older brother.

"No, mother has been keeping them to herself all morning," Tristan answers almost disinterestedly.

The younger boy becomes irritated, "Well that is certainly unfair of her." He then shrugs, "Ah, well. At least, if the rumors are true, father has great plans for them."

The oldest de Bois son tenses, he does not like the way his brother's tone darkened. "What do mean by that?"

"Have you not heard?" Agravaine looks incredulous.

Tristan tilts his head, "Heard what?"

The ink-haired boy shakes his head, "By the fates, brother, you must listen to the gossips of maidservants more often."

"Maidservants are not the most reliable source for information," Tristan says.

"Nevertheless, there is no possible way that this knowledge is false." Agravaine now appears extremely excited, "As our sister is promised to Gorlois, whom do think the daughters of Pellias are promised to?"

Tristan gives Agravaine a sidelong look, "You are not saying _us_, brother, are you?"

"Why who else? And what other reason would they have to return fifteen years since their birth? Just to see their father once in their life, I think not." From the window, Agravaine spies Ygraine with Lady Lynette and two very beautiful foreign girls whom he could only assume are their new visitors. Another young woman is trailing behind them, but the young boy pays her little attention. "Ah, look, there they are; why don't we go and introduce ourselves."

Tristan prevents his brother from going, "No, Agravaine, we cannot, we have a council meeting to attend with Father." He ends up dragging a protesting thirteen-year-old to the council chambers.

**...**

Ygraine holds the bow tightly with her left hand and the arrow loose between the fingers of her right. Archers are to always use their dominant hands to hold the arrow, but Ygraine has found that she can equally utilize both. Right is her chosen because it is more common. She locks her eye and arrow on the target and waits for a beat and then lets go. The arrow cuts through the air and hits the center of the target.

The Le Fay twins, Nimueh, and Lady Lynette clap while the duchess' daughter makes a show of bowing elaborately. The other four women walk over to Ygraine's spot in the training grounds.

"For one so young and a high-borne Lady, you are quite an accomplished archer," Nimueh notes.

Ygraine holds her head high, but not haughtily so, "My brother, Tristan is a very good teacher. Besides, I am not going to let my gender keep me from knowing how to defend not only myself, my family, friends, and people."

"Spoken like a true queen, Ygraine," Lynette says with no hint of teasing whatsoever.

The fair-haired girl shakes her head, "Queen? You have forgotten already, my friend?" A hint of distain crawls into her tone, "As you are betrothed, I am as well. And to a high-borne duke like my father and Tristan not a crowned prince or old king."

"Ah, but fate and destiny are a mysterious force that we have no control over to choose, but to make happen," Vivienne cryptically counters.

Valeria adds, "Even if you marry this duke because it is your duty, you never know what could happen in the future."

The five young women leave the topics of destiny, fate, and duty behind in favor of more carefree dueling. Although, in the back of their minds, they are all wondering what the future will hold for them.

* * *

That night, a feast is arranged by Duke Amlawdd to welcome Nimueh and the Auberon twins. It is not a large group of people of the court, as Lord Pellias does not want his daughters to become overwhelmed.

At the high table the duke, the duchess, and Lord Pellias are seated. A table to their right is where their daughter, Lady Lynette, Ladies Vivienne and Valeria, Nimueh, and other noblewomen sit. Across from them sits knights of Caerleon, Agravaine, Tristan, and other noblemen who were invited.

Despite the smaller party, the feast is no least lavish than at a larger banquet. Several pairs are dancing while the newcomers are content to sit, watch, and converse. The three at the high table are doing the same. Lynette, on the other hand, is constantly taken away from her table and is seen on the dance floor in the arms of her betrothed, Sir Gaheris of House Lothian.

Gaheris is a tall, handsome man with the frame of a warrior and a tan complexion, his hair is dark brown and his eyes green. Despite his great dedication to being a knight, his devotion to wedding and caring for Lynette seems just as great. At least that is what one can surmise by his attentiveness of her this evening.

Nimueh's stormy blue gaze narrows at Agravaine from where he is leaning against a wall while leering across the hall at Valeria and Vivienne. "Lady Ygraine," the priestess inclines her head, speaking softly, "Does, Lord Agravaine often do…" she is not sure how to put the matter likely and so settles for, "…that?"

The fair girl sighs, she has been watching her brother watching the Le Fay twins, "Agravaine is a lecher by nature, do not mind his behavior, he knows better than to violate special guests, in any way." Ygraine sneers slightly, "Besides, there are guards, Vivienne and Valeria are safe."

Nimueh relaxes her body against her chair, but stays alert, watching Agravaine's every move. But due to her distraction, she misses the way the other de Bois boy is looking at the twins… or rather one of them, the younger one. Ygraine, however, catches the look and excuses herself from the table to question it.

Noticing his younger sister's approach, Tristan tears his gaze away from Lady Valeria and looks to Ygraine, smiling, "Sister."

"Brother," she bows her head slightly and gestures that she wants to dance with him. He, of course, obliges. "So, what about Lady Valeria has got you so captivated?"

The older sibling flushes, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that! I see how you look at her and it is not that lustful stare that every other man is giving both twins at the same time. You look… in awe, amazed. Like all your life you've been in a dark tunnel and she is the light bringing you to the surface." Tristan is silent and his sister grins, "You like her."

Tristan attempts to scoff, "Don't be ridiculous, I barely know, we just met and it was brief."

Eyes sparkling she says, "Sometimes, the heart can recognize something in a moment that the mind takes time to process and accept." Before he can say anything she cuts him off, "Be a romantic sometimes brother, it will keep you from grounding yourself into the earth." With that said, she kisses him on the cheek and bids him goodnight.

* * *

**Author's Note: So… was it worth the wait? I do try to make sure of that. Anyway, thanks for reading and please review. Questions, concerns, comments are all acceptable :).**

**So, I don't know if I have ever mentioned this, but I will never leave a story unfinished and will not inform my readers. So, if I ever reach a point in time where I can't finish this or Legend of Albion, I'll let you guys know. But despite my busy schedule and slow writing pace, I have every intention of finishing Of Legacy and Legend and Legend of Albion, just not anytime soon.**


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